Free Her Wanted Wolf by Renee Michaels

wouldn’t
budge.
    These woods were the only home she’d ever known, but there was always a
sense they’d have to move on one day. The back of her throat ached with unshed
tears. Sabine would mourn the loss of this valley, and all its familiar nooks
and crannies.
    Sabine glanced at her treasures, inconsequential trinkets from a world
alien to her, that Ishbel had pilfered for her. Her sister understood her
thirst for knowledge as much as Sabine knew Ishbel longed to leave the valley.
    With gentle fingers, she pushed at the colored bottles strung together
with twine and hung from the ceiling, to send them tinkling musically against
each other. During the day, they caught sunbeams and cast a full spectrum of
colors over the dim cavern. She had a weakness for rainbows, real ones that arced
across the sky, or the ones she created with her bottles.
    Rubbing her temples, she contemplated what lay ahead for them.
    They were being pitched headfirst into a world they knew nothing of, and
she knew the Silverwolves were ill prepared. The last time any Silverwolf lived
in were society, Queen Elizabeth I ruled England. Her mind boggled at the idea
of interacting with were-tribes larger than her own. All the books she’d read
in her search of knowledge would never give her the skills to cope in a modern
environment.
    She’d be an unwanted mate of a man who’d sworn not to take another. Her
pride rebelled at such a union. Yet the inexplicable allure about him pulled at
her like the moon pulled the tides.
    To calm herself, she drew in a deep breath and held it until the tension
seeped out of her. Letting out a shuddering sigh, she focused on Lunedare. With
idle curiosity, she wondered what his dead mate had looked like. What kind of
woman evoked such devotion?
    The wolf they’d brought to their den intrigued her and presented her with
a puzzle. It took her by surprise that she found him almost impossible to read
because very little of his emotions infused the odors his body. He felt closed
off, an unfamiliar sensation for her. Oh, she caught faint whiffs of anger and
arousal seeping through the tight control he had on his feelings.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to give her an insight into the man.
    The masculine musky fragrance he’d exuded brought a dull heavy ache to
her pelvis. The sensitized, nerve-rich tissues between her thighs throbbed with
a sweet, persistent ache. Sabine slid her hand up and cupped her breast. She
pinched her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, hard. The self-inflicted
pain sent her body into a series of jerky shudders.
    The scent of Lunedare clung to her senses to her as a cocklebur to fur.
She couldn’t shake it off. She wanted him. A female were always sought out the
strongest male in the pack. The aroma of his virility would arouse the other
she-wolves.
    She grinned ruefully.
    There might be a riot among her fertile pack sisters who didn’t take
their pleasure in each other’s arms. She wondered how many would succumb to the
lure of the joys a man offered.
    Sabine scoffed at his appearance. She could hardly tell him that her
fingers itched to push back the dense, sun-streaked, dark brown hair from his
wide brow. She would never admit that his mouth, highlighted by the growth of
hair surrounding it, mesmerized her as he spoke and that his full bottom lip
beckoned her to take a taste at her leisure.
    His long, sinewy muscles, stretched taut over a long-boned frame, were so
blatantly masculine in comparison to her feminine curves she hadn’t been able
to stop looking at him. His manhood hung low and enticed her, stirring images
of couplings, which brought a flush to her skin.
    It wasn’t every day she got a chance to study a penis of those
dimensions. Even at rest, it held little resemblance to the genitals of the
campers bathing in the streams, who she and her sisters spied on. It was larger
and heavier then the anatomy diagrams she’d studied too. Sabine gulped and a
shiver of anticipation